Cursing the Pharaoh
by Alan Strauss
Summary: When supernatural PI Dr. Occult is hired to prove that his client's four thousand year old spouse is committing adultery, he figures it's just business as usual.   But as his own wife could attest, he has a habit of jumping to the wrong conclusions.
1. Chapter 1

Dr. Occult in

"Cursing the Pharaoh, pt. 1 (of 2)"

by Alan Strauss

I was reading the Sunday edition of the _Daily Arcane_ when she walked through my office door. The first thing I noticed were her legs. Perfect legs-long and tanned like cocoa, no stockings. She wore a navy blue skirt, white blouse, and a blue hat with a spider web veil. Her dark hair hung down her back in a loose braid.

I stared probably just a second too long and expected Rose to say something snide. My thoughts were quiet though. That much was good.

"You," the woman said, "are Dr. Occult."

That didn't sound much like a question but I nodded. "May I help you?"

"I sincerely hope so."

I gestured to the chair in front of my desk. A few years ago that same desk would have been covered in stacks of papers, old food cartons, and a pleasant array of exotic junk. These days it was as neat as an old lady's linen closet. There was even a blue doily under the phone. All Rose's doing.

The woman sat down and crossed her legs, offering a brief glance of perfect thigh that caused my brain to slip gears. I almost knocked my coffee into my lap as I tried to set the newspaper aside. Way too early for this, I reflected.

She politely ignored my faux pas and noted, "The _Daily Arcane_? I didn't know they still delivered print copies. We get ours online now."

"Print's better at wiping up stains," I joked, dabbing on the coffee spots I'd left. "Besides, we don't have a computer. I guess I'm old-fashioned."

She smiled. Her lips were dark, almost burgundy, red. "That is a quality I like in a man."

It was tempting to say something stupid then, but luckily enough of my brain had fallen back into place to keep me from it. Instead, I replied in my most professional tone, "So how is it I can help you, Miss…"

"Taia," she said. "It's about my husband, Ibis."

"Ibis. Haven't I heard that name before?"

She shrugged. "Possibly. We formerly did some detective work ourselves."

"Yeah, I thought so. So what do you need a guy like me for?"

"As I said," Taia answered with a sigh, "it's my husband. I think he may be having an affair."

I frowned. "An affair? That doesn't seem likely."

"Oh, and why is that?"

"A guy would have to be crazy to cheat on a woman like you."

Okay. So I went and said something stupid after all. Like I said, it was too early in the morning, and that skirt had no business doing what it was doing to me. This job isn't as easy as people think.

The corner of Taia lip quirked upwards in a smirk. "I assure you, my husband may be many undesirable things, but crazy isn't one of them."

"Alright. So tell me about it then."

Her smirk faded. "There's not much to tell. Only that for the last month he has been sneaking out of our apartment at very late hours. I have confronted him on this but he denies it. He will not tell me where he is going or where he has been."

"Won't tell you, or won't-"

"Tell me the truth, I should say. He makes up excuses, of course - covens, secret society meetings, sorcery seminars, and so forth. Not one of them stands up to any real scrutiny."

"I'm surprised you haven't tried following him."

"I have," she said, "but to no avail. He knows my magics too well. I cannot track him and he has not once failed to shake my pursuit. It is quite frustrating, doctor."

She didn't sound all that upset really. This was no weeping bride or frustrated lover. She seemed annoyed mostly, especially when she talked about him giving her the slip, as though it hurt her pride.

"Well," I said, "you could always just divorce the bum."

"We have been married for over four thousand years."

I probably gasped or winced or something like that, because she smiled bitterly at me.

"Yes. We met in Egypt. I was a Princess of Thebes and he was the Pharaoh's son. We studied the dark arts together." She made a mocking sound in the back of her throat. "It was very romantic at the time, I suppose."

"Sounds like a beautiful honeymoon, alright."

"So," she said, "given that, I feel as though some proof would be appropriate before taking action, don't you?"

I thought about it. This wasn't much to go on and I hated domestic cases. I had thought the names Ibis and Taia sounded familiar, and her little story jarred my memory. These two had been heavy hitters in their day, which was about sixty years ago. Nick and Nora Charles by way of _The Mummy_.

Four thousand years and change, I reflected, studying her face. She had sharp cheekbones, a small chin, good nose, and crystal blue eyes. Didn't look a day over thirty. If I was a pharaoh's son she definitely would have been my type.

So, naturally, I said something stupid again. I said, "Don't worry, Taia. I'll find out where he's going."

She reached across the desk and placed a slim hand on top of mine. It was warm and so was her voice.

"Thank you, doctor. I put my complete faith in you."

Already I found myself hoping the prick was guilty. I was going to nail him to the wall.

ooo

I took down a few pertinent details from Taia and we said our goodbyes. After she'd left, I rummaged through my drawer, pulled out my pipe, and propped my feet up on the desk as I lit it.

_I don't trust her_.

At the sound of Rose's voice, I nearly rolled out of my chair. As it was, I had to swipe tobacco shavings off my tie where they'd spilled out.

"Christ," I said, "you're awake then?"

_Of course, dear. _

Her voice echoed through my head with the same frustratingly familiar cross of patience and bemusement she'd used in life. Mostly when mad.

"So you were listening in the whole time?"

_If you mean, did I see you going gaga over a trollop in a short skirt, then the answer is yes_.

"Don't know what you're talking about," I grumbled, biting down on my pipe, not really enjoying it now.

Still it gave me grim satisfaction to know she hated the smell of it. I took a big whiff. "Maybe you should keep your nose out of my business."

_I would be more than happy to Richard,_ she said tartly, _if you know of some way to remove it from _our_ body._

Of course I didn't. Nobody did. Our clients included some of the greatest minds in sorcery and enchantment but not a damn one of them could solve our puzzle. We shared the same physical body-two minds, one host. It hadn't always been that way, but it sure as hell seemed like it. Once we'd just been partners, lovers even, and then a case went sour and now this.

I may have hinted at this before but occult detection isn't the greatest job around. The pay, for one, stinks. And so does the company for that matter. At least, it has for the last ten years or so.

_So what are we planning to do?_

"I don't know what you're planning," I snipped, "but I've got a case to solve. For starters, I'm going to stakeout Ibis's house."

_Are you sure? You're not very good at stakeouts, Richard. Remember the last time-_

I gritted my teeth and purposely stubbed my toe on the filing cabinet to shut her up. Pain could sometimes overpower her voice.

"Now, if I can just find where you hid my camera…"

ooo

That night I found myself in Fawcett City. The address Taia had given me belonged to a large split-level condo on Binder Blvd. It was a nice looking place - well kept lawn, clean pool, and a new Toyota out front.

I guess it wasn't what I expected. Given their back story, I was anticipating a gothic mansion or maybe a pyramid or something. Not this.

"Pretty modern looking," I thought.

_Well, _Rose replied, _not everyone is as determinedly old-fashioned as you, Richard._

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

_It means exactly what it sounds like. Take how you're dressed for example._

I glanced down at my outfit reflexively. Dress shoes, slacks, trench coat and tie, with matching fedora.

Nice, right? I thought so anyhow. "What's wrong with this? This is how private investigators are supposed to dress, Rose."

_Maybe sixty years ago. And even then the idea was to blend in. You stick out like a sore thumb._

I frowned. In the middle of a stakeout and here I was arguing about my wardrobe. My life in a nutshell lately. "Would you prefer jeans and a T-shirt? Maybe a backwards baseball cap?"

_Possibly. At least they'd serve the purpose better._

I'm sure I had something real clever to say to that, but there was movement over at the condo. A man had stepped out of the front door and was heading towards the sidewalk. He was tall, thin but well-built, with caramel toned skin. He was wearing a blue and gray track suit with tennis shoes, and stopped a moment at the curb to stretch his legs.

Again, not what I expected. I might not have recognized him as a four thousand year old Egyptian prince at all, if not for the swami hat he was wearing. Finally, he started off at a jog and I took to tailing him, casting a few simple spells to keep me from sight.

His course took us around the block and up through Beck Park. If you've ever been to Fawcett - and I have a funny feeling you haven't - you'd peg it for a nice quiet city, on the order of a Metropolis or Central City but smaller, without all the post-industrial sprawl. It gives off an almost turn of the century vibe with its brick streets, striped barber poles, and Art Deco street lamps. I don't often have the opportunity to get out this way but I find it fits me well.

What didn't fit me was trailing Ibis up and down its empty sidewalks. I started to get the distinct feeling we weren't headed anywhere. That he really was just out jogging. And I personally hate jogging, as a matter of style mainly, but especially when dressed in a trench coat and tie.

I didn't give Rose the satisfaction of hearing me complain though.

I was ready to call it a night as Ibis crossed the street, leaving me stuck at the intersection. I watched impatiently as he continued up the block - me trying to think of a good spell for making traffic lights change - when he slipped deftly into an open alleyway. I cursed under my breath and leapt into the road, dodging cars in my race to catch up to him.

By the time I reached the alleyway it was empty. There was only one way in though, and I was standing in it. The other way was blocked by a tall chain link fence, which I doubt Ibis could have scaled before I'd showed up. I checked it for signs of magical tampering but got nothing.

Next I dug out of the Sign of Seven and did the same for the whole alleyway. The Sign's this smooth clay disc of mine, roughly the size of a shot put, with the emblem of an hourglass on its back. It was a parting gift from the Cult of Seven, and helps protect me from spells, enchantments, curses, and the like, while giving a little extra whammy to my own castings.

I'd explain how it works in more detail but you wouldn't understand. No offense. I'm not sure how much I understand it myself. Occult detection is like that sometimes. Suffice to say, I trust it, and so when the Sign failed to pick up any trace of magical energies, I was floored.

Ibis had to leave this alleyway somehow. He didn't slip back out the way he entered as I would have seen him, and there was no way he got past that fence in the handful of seconds it took me to get here. Or was Ibis so skilled he could actually hide spells from the Sign?

_Why don't you check the dumpster before jumping to conclusions?_

I smirked. "You think he's hiding in a dumpster?"

_Leave no stone unturned, Richard. Where did you say you learned the art of detection again?_

"The Clouseau School of Investigation."

_A cultural reference only fifty years old_. _Very good. That's twenty fresher than usual, dear._

I walked over to the dumpster and, standing on tiptoes, pried up the rusty lid. Inside I found several black plastic garbage bags and a thick swarm of flies. A few of the later started buzzing irritably around my head, just to let me know what they thought of my barging in on dinner like that. "Happy?" I said.

I let the lid drop and it came down with a sharp bang. Leaping back faster than I should have, my shoe slipped on something wet, and suddenly I found myself diving face first into the stack of garbage cans and bins next to the dumpster. It wasn't my finest hour, all considered.

_Richard, look…_

"What now? Spied a port-a-potty you want me to scour next or…?"

Then I saw what she meant. I quickly kicked aside the remaining bins and found myself gazing down at a covered manhole. So there was nothing magic to Ibis's disappearing acts after all. Crafty bastard.

ooo

I'm not going to relate my time tromping through the sewers to you. I have a pretty handy bag of adjectives to describe the sensation of breathing waste water for two hours straight, but I'm guessing you wouldn't appreciate them. Suffice to say, it was one of those things you have to experience to get the true flavor of.

The good news is that I was able to follow Ibis without much trouble. Even though he'd gotten a head start on me, I don't think the prince was aware anyone was tailing him. These were just the usual precautions he took to deter his wife's pursuit. Once in the sewers, he slowed down and I could see the light cast by his wand from a good distance away.

I followed him for several, long damp minutes, how far exactly I'm not sure, finally emerging in another back alley. From there we walked an additional block to a large gray brick building called the Parker Hotel, me all the while trying to ignore the squishy sound my wet socks were making in my shoes. I waited outside while Ibis checked in and then tacked on another fifteen minutes before I went inside myself. A pimply clerk in a red vest greeted me from behind the desk.

"What room's the swami hat in, kid?"

"I'm sorry, sir, but we can't give out information about our guests."

I showed him the Sign and watched his face go slack as I repeated the ancient words of power once used to manipulate entire armies into laying down their swords. I just wanted a room number myself. And maybe a glance at the hotel's floor plans.

Moments later, back outside and on my way up the creaky fire escape, Rose started in.

_I don't like this kind of creeping around, Richard. I find it very distasteful. It seems almost…voyeuristic._

"That's the job. Taia wants proof her husband is cheating on her. So we need pictures."

_I still think you enjoy it too much_.

That really kind of depended on what they were doing when I got there.

_Have you ever considered going into another line of work? I mean, what's the point of living for centuries if we're going to spend all our time sneaking down alleyways and staking out - _

"Oh, for Christ's sake, Rose, I'm trying to work here!"

We'd reached the fifth floor and I slipped the camera out from under my coat, double-checking the lens. Privately, I considered myself something of an artist when it came to this part. The pictures I snapped were always beauts. No one could capture their targets in more compromising poses than me at my best. There was never any room for doubt once the client saw them.

For some reason, Rose couldn't appreciate the delicacy that went into that kind of precision though.

I cleared the last rung then crouched down, approaching the window on cat's paws. The curtains were open but the lights inside were dimmed. Within, I could just make out the usual accoutrements of a posh hotel room. Couch, coffee table, gift basket of soaps, a naked woman bound and withering within a crude circle of flickering red candles.

This last one sort of held my attention.

_That doesn't look good, Richard…_

I watched as a man - Ibis, I realized, stripped to his shorts, his oiled body covered in strange runes - entered from the other room, carrying a bowl of incense. He spoke some words, sprinkling it on the woman with his long bony fingers, before picking up an enormous crescent dagger from the table and raising it overhead.

I hated to admit it but I suddenly found myself agreeing with Rose.

ooo

I've got a bad reputation for doing senselessly heroic things, I realize. I have no idea how it got started and don't normally appreciate such slander. The thing is, you do a few seemingly nice things in this crummy world - disband a Satanic Cult, say, or slay a Wendigo or two - and people get the wrong idea. Suddenly, fruit loops like Dr. Fate or the Phantom Stranger start showing up in your living room on weekends, inviting you along for every little Mom and Pop magical crisis that crops up. They can be real insistent guys too. As if it's this great privilege to save the world or something.

Let me tell you though. In case it isn't clear at this point, magic people are a weird bunch. Personally I can't stand them. If it wasn't for my line of work, I wouldn't have a thing to do with the whole damn lot.

So despite what you may have heard, hanging out with batty archmages and sticking my neck on the line needlessly are not my favorite pastimes in the world. On occasion though, a situation just calls for you do something outrageously stupid. Demands it even.

Like this one.

_Richard I really don't think…_

I pulled down the brim of my hat, covered my face with the sleeve of my coat, and took a bounding leap forward. It carried me through the glass window and straight into the hotel room. The plan was to hit the floor rolling, then leap up to knock the dagger from Ibis's hand like a bonafied movie action hero.

Instead my shoe hooked itself on the window seal and I struck my head against the leg of the dining table.

…_Richard…this really isn't the time to play around…I'm serious Richard…RICHARD…GET UP!_

With Rose's shouts ringing through my brain, I slowly opened my eyes. My head was now pounding to its own unique rhythm while the room spun as if on a turntable. Suddenly, I saw Ibis standing directly above me. His chest heaved up and down like a bellow, the oil on his lean arms glistening in the candle light. He was in pretty good shape for a four thousand year old, I thought to myself. Then I saw the knife, twinkling overhead and clasped in both his hands, as Ibis's eyes rolled back in their sockets.

Yeah. Occult detection. It's the worst.


	2. Chapter 2

Dr. Occult in

"Cursing the Pharaoh, pt. 2 (of 2)"

by Alan Strauss

So there I was flat on my back, ankle sprained, staring up at a half naked magician about to plunge his dagger into me. To think I'd been excited about this case only a few hours ago.

It had all started well enough, with a beautiful woman sauntering into my office in need of help. She was the kind of potential client no red blooded male could turn away. Not even one unfortunate enough to share a brain with a wife, a wife who thinks looking is every bit as bad as touching. Her name was Taia and she wanted to know where her husband was spending his off-hours. Private Investigations 101, you'd think, except this is occult detection, and that always means headaches.

Ibis couldn't just be a wayward husband. No, he had to be centuries old Egyptian royalty with a talent for spell casting. Now, normally, I'd avoid cases involving ancient sorcerers like the plague, being an unpredictable lot in general, but…well, did I mention the skirt his wife was wearing that afternoon? I figured a little tracking job shouldn't be too challenging for a detective of my vast experience. I'd stake out his house, trail him to whatever seedy rendezvous he was sneaking off to every night, and then maybe snap a few incriminating photos. Simple.

I should have known better.

Because simple is what led me here. A small hotel room in Fawcett City and a scene that was very hard to describe in terms that didn't sound disturbingly homoerotic. Truth be told, I was even a little alarmed, especially as Ibis reared back with that knife of his clasped in both hands, a vacant expression on his face.

"I, ah, don't suppose we could talk about th-"

And down it came. A sibilant hiss like a punctured balloon filled the room. My lungs springing a fatal leak, I figured, until I realized it was just my own panicked wheezing. The dagger stood straight up from my chest but hadn't actually pierced me. It was stuck in my camera. And to think Rose had been criticizing my love of risqué photography just a few minutes ago.

Ibis wasted a moment staring then tried to jerk it free for another try. I collected myself enough to connect a hard right with his chin and send him sprawling. By the time we were both standing up, his expression had changed again. Gone was the zombie-like glaze and in its place something more like outrage.

"You fool! Do you realize what you've done?"

I shrugged and collected my hat from the floor.

"Your actions may have just doomed the human race!"

Which is not, as it happens, the first time I've had this shouted at me.

ooo

Here's one of those things about occult detection. Call it a rule if you like. Simply put, it's this: you can't let the little things get you down. Where magic's involved, you just have to roll with the punches, and accept that nothing can really be taken at face value. Everything is just another goddamn gimmick with these people, façade on top of façade on top of façade.

So I was working hard not to second guess myself or lose my cool while Ibis explained to me just how I'd ruined everything for everyone everywhere. How I'd interrupted his carefully arranged ritual, one that took years to prepare, all on the eve of destruction, naturally. Even his would-be sacrifice, now untied, modestly dressed, and seated on the sofa, was shooting me acid glares. Turns out she was part of some ancient order that had been nobly sacrificing themselves to the cause for years and here I'd ruined her big debut.

Figures, really. I manage to save a beautiful maiden from being stabbed by a lunatic and all she does is complain about it. My life is a nutshell.

_Serves you right_, Rose noted, _always leaping in headfirst, especially where a pretty face is involved…_

"Yeah, well, I don't recall you objecting at the time."

Or maybe I do actually. All the complaining kind of merges together after while, I find. Whatever the case, my little outburst got Ibis seething at me again. Probably figured I was talking to him, given how Rose's voice is audible only to myself. Lucky me.

"Objecting? No, I suppose I was too busy completing the Rite of Containment, trying to keep the Ageless Pharaoh, Anon-Tet, from escaping his centuries long imprisonment and overrunning our realm with his undead legions. How silly of me. I should have cleared it all with you first, the hotel detective, or whoever you're supposed to be…"

"Dr. Occult," I corrected him. "Private investigator. You may have heard of me."

Apparently not though as he rolled his eyes and barked a laugh. "A doctor! Of what? Dentistry?"

"Occult science."

Ibis crossed his arms, his face a grotesque of haughty skepticism. "A likely story. I've never heard of any university teaching the subject."

"Who said anything about a university?"

"Then who granted the title?" he huffed.

"Only the foremost expert in the field."

"And _that_ would be?"

"Me," I replied simply.

This didn't exactly impress Ibis, who merely threw up his arms in exasperation, but I felt better saying it at least. _For a man approaching a hundred, you certainly can behave with a remarkable lack of maturity. _Rose again. See what I mean?

Meanwhile, Ibis turned to his erstwhile assistant, prattling something in rapid-fire Arabic, to which she nodded primly and took her leave. But not before giving me a parting look that would have scorched Teflon.

"Well, how apt then, seeing that you caused all this by your bumbling interference…."

"You were about to stab a woman to death in your underwear. Call me crazy for getting the wrong idea."

"…a blood sacrifice is a necessary part of such a powerful ritual as any true occult expert should recognize. Without it, the seal will be broken. Anon will surely return and his bloody vengeance will make one mere willing sacrifice seem like a day at the park in comparison. Unless…"

There are a lot of words I don't like. Often that just has to do with pronunciation or tricky spelling but sometimes it's because they're rarely followed by good news. 'Unless' tends to be like that in my experience.

"Go on," I grumbled.

"Unless someone convinces him not to leave the underworld."

"And how would one do that? Bouquet of flowers?"

Ibis smiled coldly. "One would have to be extraordinarily clever, _doctor_. Anon would have to be tricked or made to believe that continuing his confinement was in his best interest. A confinement he has sought to escape for going on two thousand years now."

"Sounds like a fun time, alright."

"I'm very glad you think so as I'm going to need a capable assistant."

I held up my hands. "Hey, I didn't volunteer for anything, I was just hired by…"

"My wife, I know. I couldn't risk having her involved in something so dangerous." Ibis latched onto the cuff of my overcoat and yanked me forward. He had a surprising amount of strength hidden in those bony fingers. "But you, on the other hand, why, you're the top of your field, right? And, since we only have a few hours left, we'd best get moving…"

"Moving? Wait, hold on! Moving where?"

He flung the closet doors open and, where moments before his assistant's raincoat had been hanging on a lonely peg, now loomed an elaborate onyx stairway spiraling down into an impenetrable gloom.

"Why, the realm of the undead, of course!"

ooo

Now, understand, private investigation in general involves a lot of legwork. There's only so much information you can gather while seated behind a desk. Sooner or later you have to hit the streets, connect the dots, talk to people face-to-face. It isn't always glamorous, often it's downright tedious, but that's the job I do.

In other words I've done my share of traveling. New York, Paris, Tokyo. Not to mention Olympus, Faerie, and Sigil. It takes a lot to make an impression on me. So when I say there was something about this place I didn't like, something that made my hair stand on end, understand we're talking years of experience. I think it was the age mainly. This looked, felt, heck, even smelled, old. A relic not just from the past, but the most ancient of all pasts.

_I think it's rather beautiful, Richard._

We were presently walking through a garden of turquoise. Stately blue sycamores surrounded by delicate strands of blue reed grass. The experience was sort of like walking through a Picasso painting. Nice and all but if I tilted my head just a little to the west, I could also see an enormous lake of fire spitting twenty foot licks of flame into the superheated air. Just to the south of that, along the road we'd crossed, was an enormous iron gate where a gazelle-headed keeper was tearing a screaming petitioner limb from limb and devouring the pieces.

"Yeah, it's a real feast for the eyes…."

Ibis, who had been jaunting along several steps ahead of me, paused to give me a thin lipped smile. He was dressed in his jogging suit and swami hat from earlier, which struck me as a heck of a getup to be visiting hell in. In fact it irritated me. That and everything else about the man.

"What you need to understand about Duat, _doctor_, is that it is not like your Christian underworld. It is not merely a home for demons and the damned. It is more like a middle world, one intimately connected with the surface, where gods and spirits frequently pass on their peculiar errands, and sometimes even reside."

"Real fascinating. So what's the deal with this Pharaoh anyways?"

"Anon-Tet was a master of the black arts who discovered the secret to eternal life. Not the sort of prolonged lives we enjoy but _true_ immortality. Mentally and physically eternal. He was, truthfully, a great man, but also ruthless, perverse, and quite mad. If he had been allowed to reach his full power on the mortal plane he likely would have enslaved the entire world."

"Ain't it always the way. What stopped to him?"

"His hitherto loyal magi finally realized the depths of his corruption and so betrayed him. They trapped his astral form in Duat and entombed his human body under miles of sand and rubble."

"That means he's beatable then."

Ibis laughed. "Oh, most certainly. The royal court's magi managed to catch him off guard that day. Of course he is likely to be somewhat more prepared now, having had some several millennia to go over events in his mind. Plus there were nearly fifty of them and only two of us…"

"Fifty, huh? Couldn't we just call them in?"

"They perished," he answered nonchalantly. "Most were killed by Anon-Tet in the first few minutes of their battle. The rest sacrificed themselves to seal his tomb."

Which seemed like quite enough questions for the moment. Besides we'd arrived at the end of our trail. It had taken us through the garden and onwards to the foot of a forbidding gray mountain. It looked impassable to my thinking and neither of us had brought along climbing gear. Ibis began to scratch his chin.

"It should be here somewhere…"

"Well, at least we tried, huh? Might as well head home, maybe give Dr. Fate a call, seems more his kind of deal a-"

"Ah, yes!" Ibis announced, drawing a crude circle on the stone's surface with a stub of chalk he took from his pocket. The white quickly seeped into the rock, leaving a large black hole. "Here we go."

I think the idiot was actually about to wave me in - as if I was going to lead the charge or something - but he didn't need bother. From the hole he'd just created a leering jackal's face had suddenly emerged. Saliva dripped from its savage yellow teeth, although the clear blue eyes that hung about its maw were as intelligence as those of any man. It gave us both a cursory glance before retreating several steps back into the gloom and waiting.

"One of Anon's servants. I think it expects us to follow."

"Super," I said dryly.

ooo

Following an uncomfortable trek through tight corridors blanketed in darkness, we eventually found ourselves in a vast stone hall illuminated by pale white torches. Despite being tall behind measure and so wide I could barely see the distant walls, there was barely room enough for us to pass. An army of undead creatures stood shoulder to shoulder across in length - soldiers with shriveled skin like gray parchment wielding spears as long as their bodies, others with torsos as tanned, oiled, and muscular as billboard lingerie models, entirely human save of course for the fanged serpent heads that rose above their shoulders. At their feet gathered packs of scruffy jackals far too large to exist anywhere on earth.

"His personal guard," Ibis explained to me in a whisper, "two thousand strong at the time of his death and feared across the land for their unbridled savagery and intense loyalty." According to him, the whole lot had marched willingly into the pharaoh's tomb as soon as they'd heard of his death, forgoing any attempt to seize power or seek revenge on their own. That's how certain they were of their master's swift return.

So, all in all a less than friendly audience, although a surprisingly attentive one, I've got admit. Hardly a sound echoed in that massive hall as a path was cleared for our approach. The tunnel that emerged through their ranks led us directly to the foot of a large onyx throne upon which sat a small gnarled cadaver of a man with skin like white papyrus and hollow eyes. Immediately, Ibis launched into his appeal by prostrating himself on the stone floor and addressing this ugly little mummy in such obsequious terms it would have made ten queens blush.

"Your greatness, we are humbled before you august presence and awed by the generosity with which you choose to grant us mere mortals an audience!"

And it kind of went on like that. Ibid laying it on so thick he ought to have brought a trowel. I found it all a bit much myself, but I then was never much for formalities. He certainly had the room's attention, I'll say that much.

"We have traveled here from the upper world to plead mercy, oh majestic one! We know you once vowed to return to the surface world and resume your rightful kingship, and that the time of your ascendancy has now come again. Yet I beg you in your wisdom to reconsider!"

I scanned the pharaoh's face for any sign of emotion or even recognition but found none. I saw only the same empty-eyed stare hovering above his slack-jawed mouth. Anon-Tet sat dumb and immobile, engulfed by his own throne, his skinny arms laying atop the massive stone rests like dried willow branches. I wondered if he could even hear us. Ibis continued, undaunted.

"Implore you, Anon-Tet, listen well! For I tell you that too much time has passed! The old kingdoms have crumbled to dust. Men no longer believe in the ancient ways. What need has one as powerful and old as yourself with such simple creatures now? Let your mighty armies rest at last."

_I think he's doing rather well, actually. He has a nice speaking voice, don't you think?_

I rolled my eyes under cover of my hat brim. Leave it to Rose to take a fancy to this arrogant windbag. For my own part, I just kept reflecting on how well a stiff drink would suit me right about now.

"Let go of the past. Forget the old grievances…"

With a dry crackle not unlike decaying leather, the pharaoh shifted upon his throne. First he bent his wizened head forward on his stalk of neck as if to study Ibis more closely. His twig-like arms then slowly raised the bejeweled scepter from his lap until it was held aloft to twinkle coldly in the dim lighting.

"…release your vengeance and g-"

A strange unnatural thrumming sound seemed to fill my ears and something imperceptible crackled through the air around us like electricity. Ibis paused a moment, searching for a suitably pompous phrasing I figured, until wisps of smoke began to stream off his turban. All at once his skin pealed back and he lit up in flame, screaming hideously before crumbling into a pile of black ash at Anon-Tet's feet.

The hall stood silent again and all eyes suddenly turned towards me.

"Huh."

ooo

There are a number of skills vital to the occupation of occult detective. Quick wits, a fast right hook, a talent for unusual languages, an eye for detail. They all come in handy at times. I've found, however, that the one that prevails, time and time again, is good cardio. Spells are nice and all but sturdy legs and a good set of lungs have yet to stand me wrong in a time of crisis.

Ibis's ashes had not even quite finished wafting to the floor before I'd lit out of there like a startled cat. Muscle memory, my subconscious, or maybe just plain dumb luck carried me through the crypt's darkened passageways and back outside so fast that I barely had time to think. Which was fine because when I finally did, while weaving my through those turquoise gardens, brittle flowers crunching under my heavy loafers, nothing good came of it.

_The situation seems rather dire, Richard._

"Ya think?" I bellowed, holding onto my hat, as I bounded over a hedge of razor sharp mulberries. Behind me Anon-Tet's foot soldiers were already giving pursuit. They moved through the garden with an eerie agility that sent a cold shiver up my spine. I might be able to make it the rift we'd entered through, just barely, but what then?

_I'll think of something. Hopefully. You just do your best to keep us from getting killed, dear._

Good advice or good enough at least. Retracing our path from before, I passed through thickets of tall reeds, racing along the banks of a glassy black river. Its surface was dotted by large lily pads whose pale flowers that looked disturbingly like human skulls. Behind me, something began to claw at the flapping tails of my coat.

I fished my hand into my pocket, snatching up the Sign of Seven, and turned sharply. A skeletal beast with the antlers of a ram lunged past me as I reflexively dodged what would have been a deadly blow. I had no time to rummage through my thoughts for a spell but fortunately that's the power of the Sign. It knew what I wanted, or rather what I needed, and dredged it up from my memories for me. I just had to say the words it fed me and watch the results.

What happened next was not the least bit pyrotechnic or flashy. The spell was a simple but powerful one aimed at negating the chronal distortion aura that kept the ancient creature whole. All at once it's protection was breached and the true effect of time came crashing in. With a silent howl, its bones crumbled to powder and it fell forward in a whiff of aged dust.

Nice and all but one down out of two thousand could hardly be called a victory. I couldn't simply keep doing that all day long either. Both me and the Sign had our limits. So snatching up the creature's sickle-shaped sword - a Khopesh, Rose informed me ever so helpfully, as if she had nothing better to do - I hacked off the arm of the next encroaching monster and lit off again in a mad run.

That was the pattern for there on in. Just pure mechanical energy. Hack. Run. Spell. Hack again. Run some more. I was sweating like a pig and my arm ached all the way up to my shoulder by the time the rift came within sight. Behind me dozens of the pharaoh's undead minions were bounding into sight as I stumbled to a stop.

"Now what?"

_We need to cast a ward about the rift. Quickly! We can't let them enter it! _

I followed Rose's instructions, drawing archaic symbols in the dust with the hilt of my borrowed sword and reciting the appropriate words of power, trying to keep a sense of hopelessness from setting in. "This isn't going to hold forever, you know. What do we do next?"

_You have to keep them back while I attempt to contact the outside world. _

Which wasn't exactly simpatico to my own line of thinking. "Are kidding me? What we need to do is get the hell out of here! We can worry about making social calls later!"

_But we cannot just flee and leave the portal wide open for Anon-Tet, Richard! If I can just call in help, perhaps Dr. Fate or Z-" _

Her words were cut short as a javelin, black as a pitch, tore directly through our protective warding and sunk itself in the sleeve of my coat. The force of the missile knocked the Sign from my hand, sending that thin stone disc rolling across the dirt while the shaft pinned my arm to the ground. I was still struggling to free myself when a chariot rolled forward, led by two pestilent black horses with bleached skulls and hollow eyes. At their reins stood the skeletal Anon-Tet.

The ageless pharaoh gazed down at us for the briefest of moments and then turned towards the rift. Something almost like a smile seemed to cross his sunken face as he raised scepter high and motioned to his legions. With a huff of the steam, his horses plunged forward, carrying him onwards through the portal and up to the surface world. His army followed their master's lead in a silent march.

ooo

Only when the last of the pharaoh's men had disappeared, could I once again hear Rose's voice echoing in my thoughts.

_Oh, God, we've failed Richard! He's gone through… _

"Yeah, well…at least we're alive…"

_He probably didn't think we were worth the bother to kill. We may even wish he had finished us off once we discover what's going on topside_. _It's our fault, you know. If we hadn't interfered… _

It stung to admit it but Rose was right for once. A lot of innocent people were about to die in a no doubt gruesome manner. All because I had to barge in and play hero where I wasn't welcome. "I guess I bungled this one but good…"

"Quite the contrary, _doctor,_" a familiar voice replied as the javelin was tugged from my sleeve. "You filled your role perfectly."

I looked up to see Ibis fading into view, looking perfectly fit and in one piece, goofy turban and all. Not so much as a mild sun burn could be spotted on him. There was, however, a disgustingly smug expression on his face. I had a feeling I wasn't going to particularly enjoy what he was about to tell me, even if it was technically good news.

And I was right.

"So that was a decoy I saw getting toasted back there? Not the real you?"

"Of course and a very convincing one I must say. I had to gamble that Anon-Tet wouldn't detect the fraud, but it's been so long since he's seen an actual human being, I thought it a safe bet. The other risk of course was you."

"Right, I'm surprised I didn't detect the switch myself…"

"Oh, no," Ibid chuckled, rather ungraciously I thought, "I wasn't worried about that, _doctor_, not at all. It was just a matter of whether or not I'd read your character right."

"Figured I'd come through in the end, huh?"

"Well. Rather I guessed that if things went badly inside the tomb, you'd go running for the nearest exit, without a second thought for saving me or stopping the pharaoh. Anon-Tet would of course follow, assuming that you would lead him straight back to our world."

I frowned. It wasn't an inaccurate description of what had happened, technically, but somehow this telling seemed to get the tone all wrong.

"Although," Ibid added reluctantly, as if loathe to give me any credit at all, "I was rather surprised by your show of courage at the end. Of course there's no way you could have stopped him from passing through but it certainly made my little charade all the more convincing. The real rift of course, I hid over here."

Ibis waved his wand and a second portal appeared, its stairway presumably leading back up to the apartment we'd left hours before. Which meant that the one Rose and I had been guarding was a fake. I studied its outline with a queasy feeling deep in my gut, picturing just how close I'd come to leaping through it.

"So where _does_ this one lead?"

"Oh, I simply opened a passage to the most horrible place I could imagine at the time."

"I thought you said you _didn't_ send him to earth?"

Ibis just ignored me as usual. No sense of humor, I apparently. Anyways, according to him the portal led directly to the Plains of Leng, a place even hardened veterans of the occult trade like myself shy away from. By reputation I knew it to be a deceptive, unpredictable realm, home of dark gods and vengeful spirits. Ibid figured Anon-Tet would find plenty of like minds to keep him busy there and might never even realize he'd been tricked. It'd been so long since he'd seen the surface world, how was he to know the difference anymore?

"Say, and how'd you know _I_ wasn't going to enter it? I mean, weren't you running a pretty big risk there?"

To which Ibis only smiled in reply.

So much then for thousand year old Egyptian curses and underworld tourism, at least for me. It hadn't turned out so bad in the end but I was still happy to be back in my office just the same. What made it all go down a little easier is the fact I actually got paid for once. Magicians in general aren't exactly the must trustworthy clients, believe me, all that sleight of hand inevitably crowds their judgment when it comes to paying their bills, but no sooner was I through the door then I spotted a check waiting on my desk with Taia's name on it. Meaning I'd be able to keep the lights on for at least few months. Maybe even afford a new camera, if I was lucky.

"Told you I knew what I was doing," I informed my wife as I kicked my heels up on the desk and lit my pipe.

_You always tell me that, dear. Still, it could have gone worse, I suppose._

"Sure. Ibis and his wife are safe and sound, and we apparently saved the world in the process. Not bad for a night's work. Sometimes I almost think we make a pretty good team."

_We do have our moments, don't we? _

I smiled and leaned back, flipping to the Sunday crossword puzzle in the _Daily Arcane_. Working it had become something of a ritual for us, a way to unwind after a case. I nibbled at the end of my pencil eraser as I scanned the hints.

"An eight letter word for crazy…"

_Committed, dear. Committed._


End file.
